ACT III
Scene: Same as preceding act—the following morning, about eight-thirty, Craig is still sitting in the big chair before the fireplace, asleep. After a pause, Mrs. Harold enters through the portières, carrying a dustpan and hand brush. She sees Craig, looks at him curiously, and also observes the pieces of the shattered ornament and the cigarette butts at his feet. She turns and puts the dustpan and brush down on the seat at the right of the stairway, and, with a glance up the stairs, crosses and unlocks the front door and goes out. The screen door slams after her and Craig wakes. He looks around, glances at his watch, gets up and settles himself before the mirror. Mrs. Harold tiptoes in, bringing the morning paper.
Craig
- Good morning, Mrs. Harold.
Mrs. Harold (stopping above the center table)
- Good morning, Mr. Craig.
Craig
- I must have made a night of it sitting here.
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, I was wondering if you’d been there all night.
Craig
- I must have fallen asleep.
Mrs. Harold
- You must feel pretty tired, don’t you?
Craig (turning to her)
- No, I’m all right. Is that the morning paper you have there, Mrs. Harold?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, sir, I was just bringing it in.
Craig
- Let me see if, will you?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, sir. (He takes the paper; and, stepping to the window, forward, reads it eagerly) Would you like a cup of coffee, Mr. Craig?
Craig
- Yes, I’ll take a little coffee if you have it.
Mrs. Harold (starting for the portières)
- It’s all made;—I’ll just turn on the percolator for a minute.
- [She goes out; and he stands reading. There is the sound of a door opening somewhere upstairs. He glances towards the head of the stairs, then crosses quickly up to the front door and out on to the porch. Mrs. Harold comes in again; and, picking up the dustpan and brush, comes forward to the mantelpiece and starts to sweep up the ornament and cigarette butts. Mrs. Craig appears on the stairway.
Mrs. Craig
- Mrs. Harold.
Mrs. Harold (straightening up)
- Yes, Ma’m?
Mrs. Craig
- Has the morning paper come yet?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, Ma’m, I just gave it to Mr. Craig; he’s reading it there on the front porch.
Mrs. Craig (puzzled, and coming down the stairs)
- What is he doing up so early?
Mrs. Harold
- I don’t think he’s been in bed at all, Mrs. Craig; he was sitting in this big chair here when I came in this morning, and he was sitting here last night when I locked up.
- [Mrs. Craig crosses to the bay window at the left and looks out on to the porch: and Mrs. Harold resumes her sweeping, Mrs. Craig becomes aware of what Mrs. Harold is doing, and turns to her.
Mrs. Craig
- What is that you’re sweeping up there, Mrs. Harold?
Mrs. Harold (straightening up)
- Why, it’s that center ornament that was here, Mrs. Craig.
- [Mrs. Craig crosses down in front of the center table, looking wide-eyed at the vacant place on the mantelpiece.
Mrs. Craig
- What!
Mrs. Harold
- It got broke last night,
Mrs. Craig
- Oh, my God, Mrs. Harold, don’t tell me that that’s that beautiful statuette!
Mrs. Harold
- Mr. Craig said that he broke it.
Mrs. Craig (looking at the shattered pieces in the dustpan, which Mrs. Harold is holding)
- Oh, my God, look at the way it’s broken!—It’s smashed into a thousand pieces.
Mrs. Harold
- It must have fallen on the bricks here.
Mrs. Craig
- Oh, that never simply fell, Mrs. Harold; it’s absolutely shattered—look at the size of the pieces. It’s out of the question even to think of having it mended.
Mrs. Harold
- No, I don’t think it could ever be mended now.
Mrs. Craig (almost crying)
- That beautiful thing—that I wouldn’t even allow anybody to go near; and look at it now.
Mrs. Harold
- It certainly is too bad.
Mrs. Craig
- And, of course, I might just as well throw those others away now, for they’re absolutely meaningless without this one.
- [She turns away, in a pang of grief, and moves a few steps towards the left, then suddenly turns again to Mrs. Harold)
- How on earth did it ever happen, Mrs. Harold?
Mrs. Harold
- I don’t know, I’m sure, Mrs. Craig.
Mrs. Craig
- I suppose Mazie broke it for spite, didn’t she?—Because I reprimanded her last night for putting things back of it.
Mrs. Harold
- No, she didn’t break it, Mrs. Craig, for she was out there in the kitchen with me when we heard it fall.
Mrs. Craig (turning away and crossing below the center table)
- Well, send her in here to me now, I want to speak to her.
Mrs. Harold
- Mr. Craig said that he broke it; (Mrs. Craig turns and looks at her) he said he didn’t like that ornament.
Mrs. Craig
- Tell Mazie I want to see her.
Mrs. Harold
- She isn’t here, Mrs. Craig; she’s gone.
Mrs. Craig
- You mean she’s left already?
Mrs. Harotp
- Yes, Ma’m, she left right she she had her breakfast.
Mrs. Craig
- Of course she did, the contemptible little devil.
Mrs. Harold
- Mr. Craig said that he’d tell you all about it.
Mrs. Craig
- Where did Mazie go?
Mrs. Harold
- She said she was goin’ to her married sister’s for a while.
Mrs. Craig
- Did you pay her her wages?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, Ma’m, I paid her last night.
Mrs. Craig (turning away towards the front door)
- All right, Mrs. Harold. (Mrs. Harold goes out through the portières, taking the dustpan and brush with her) Walter, come in here for a minute, will you? (She glances over her shoulder, to see that Mrs. Harold is out of earshot, then turns and waits till Craig comes in. He enters, carrying the newspaper) What does the paper say this morning about the Passmore thing?
Craig (handing her the newspaper)
- You’re quite safe.
- [He comes forward and across in front of the center table to the mirror, and straightens his tie.
Mrs. Craig (stepping forward to the piano and spreading the paper out eagerly)
- What does it say?
Craig
- His brother got in last night from Pittsburgh, with a letter that Fergus had written him, intimating his intentions.
Mrs. Craig
- Then, Fergus did it himself?
Craig
- So it appears.
Mrs. Craig
- I always told you he was jealous of his wife.
- [Craig turns and looks at her.
Craig
- He did it because she was dishonest.
Mrs. Craig (reading)
- I suppose this telegram here from his brother about Fergus’ letter was the additional information that that detective spoke about here last night. (She straightens up and speaks directly to Craig) He called Police Headquarters from here about seven o’clock, and then he said it wouldn’t be necessary to bother us any more for a while,—that there’d been some additional information come in on the case; so I suppose that’s what it was; for it says here the telegram was received at Police Headquarters at six forty-five.
Craig (moving with a wearied air towards the portières)
- What does it matter now, Harriet?
Mrs. Craig
- It doesn’t matter now, but it would have mattered—only that I kept my head last night, and didn’t allow you to telephone, and make a show of us all. (He laughs bitterly) You can laugh, as much as you like; but you can thank me that your name isn’t in every paper in the city this morning.
- [She resumes her reading.
Craig
- Oh, I can thank you for more than that, Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, you can thank me for that, anyway.
Craig
- I can thank you for having given me a new name last night—that fits me so perfectly that I’ve decided to continue its use. You called me a romantic fool.
Mrs. Craig
- Fergus must have known about this man that Adelaide’s been going around with; for it says here he’d mentioned him once before in a letter to his brother.
- [Mrs. Harold appears between the portières.
Mrs. Harold
- The coffee’s ready, Mr. Craig.
Craig (turning quietly towards the portières)
- All right, Mrs. Harold.
- [She withdraws, and he follows her. Mrs. Craig looks up suddenly and crosses towards him.
Mrs. Craig
- Listen, Walter, come here for a minute.
- [He turns.
Craig
- What?
Mrs. Craig
- Listen. (She glances over his shoulder after Mrs. Harold, then lowers her voice) Billy Birkmire ’ull very likely want you to go out there with him to Fergus’ funeral;but don’t you do it. And you’d better tell him not to go around there either; for one of you is apt to say something. And if that butler out there sees you, he might recognize you. And there’s no use starting anything now, when the thing’s all over.
- [He looks at her steadily.
Craig
- Is that all you wanted to tell me?
Mrs. Craig
- Well, it’s the thing to do, isn’t it? It certainly wouldn’t help matters now to say anything, would it? What are you smiling at?
Craig
- At your wanting to help matters.
Mrs. Craig
- So I have wanted to help them.
Craig
- Since when?
Mrs. Craig (turning away to the center table)
- Well, don’t let’s go into all that again. I’ve been wanting to help you principally, but you don’t seem to have sense enough to appreciate it.
Craig
- Is that all you want me for?
Mrs. Craig (turning to him again)
- No, it isn’t all I want you for. I want to know about that ornament there that was broken here last night.
Craig
- What about it?
Mrs. Craig
- I don’t know what about it; that’s the reason I’m asking you. Mrs. Harold tells me here this morning that you told her last night that you’d broken it.
Craig
- So I did.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, you ought to be proud of yourself.
Craig
- I was for a moment.
Mrs. Craig
- What were you doing—leaning against the mantelpiece again as usual?
Craig
- No, it wasn’t an accident; I did it deliberately.
Mrs. Craig
- What do you mean, you did it deliberately?
Craig
- I mean that I smashed it purposely.
Mrs. Craig
- What for?
Craig
- I became suddenly heroic.
Mrs. Craig
- I don’t believe you.
Craig (turning away)
- Very well, that’s that.
Mrs. Craig
- Why would you deliberately break a beautiful, expensive ornament Like that?
Craig (turning back)
- I didn’t break it.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, you said you did.
Craig (bitierly)
- I said I smashed it—into a thousand little pieces, right here on these bricks here, And then I smoked one cigarette after another, till I had your sanctum sanctorum here absolutely littered with ashes and cigarette butts. I was positively a hell of a fellow around here for about an hour last night; you should have seen me.
Mrs. Craig
- What did you do, go out of your mind or something?
Craig
- No, I was particularly clear in my mind, strange to say. You made a remark here last night, Harriet, that completely illuminated me; and illuminated you. And suddenly I saw—for the first time—everything—just as one sees an entire landscape at midnight in a flash of lightning. But, unfortunately, the lightning struck my house—and knocked it down; and I sat here all night wondering how I might build it up again.
Mrs. Craig
- What remark are you talking about?
Craig
- You said that a woman might lose her husband but not her home, if she knew how to secure it.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, hasn’t many a woman lost her husband?
Craig
- And many a man has lost his life too, Harriet, because his wife has never made a sufficiently illuminating remark. But you did make it. And that other remark—when you said there were ways of getting rid of people without driving them away from the house. (He smiles bitterly) I saw your entire plan of life, Harriet,and its relationship to me. And my instinct of self-preservation suggested the need of immediate action—the inauguration of a new régime here: so I smashed the little ornament there—as a kind of opening gun. And I was going to smash all the other little ornaments—and Gods you had set up in the temple here, and been worshipping before me. I was going to put my house in order, including my wife; and rule it with a red of iron. (Mrs. Croig turns away, faintly amused) I don’t wonder that amuses you; it amused me; particularly when I suddenly remembered the truth of what you called me last night; and in view of that, the absurdity of my trying to sustain such a rôle indefinitely. It made me laugh—But I’m rather sorry you couldn’t have seen me, anyway; I think you would at least have appreciated the sincerity of my attempt to continue here as your husband.
- [He turns slowly and moves towards the portières.
Mrs. Craig
- What do you mean, your attempt to continue here as my husband?
Craig
- The rôle is not for me, Harriet; I can only play a romantic part.
- [She turns her head quietly and looks at him; and he holds her eye for a second, then goes out through the portières; and she stands looking after him. Then she moves slowly to the portières and stands, thinking. The doorbell rings, but evidently she doesn’t hear it, She moves forward slowly, still thinking narrowly. Mrs. Harold comes through the portières hurriedly.
Mrs. Craig
- There’s some one at the door, Mrs, Harold.
- [The doorbell rings again.
Mrs. Harold (hurrying across to answer the door)
- I guess maybe it’s the man for Miss Austen’s things,
Mrs. Craig
- Is Miss Austen leaving already ?
Mrs. Harold (stopping near the door)
- I think so; she said last night she was going first thing in the morning.
Mrs. Craig
- Is she up?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, Ma’m, she asked me to call her at seven.
- [She goes out, and Mrs. Craig crosses after her.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, if that’s the man for her things, Mrs. Harold, have him go round to the side door and bring her things down the back stairway; I don’t want him dragging trunks down these front stairs.
- [She steps to the bay window at the left and looks out at the expressman.
Expressman (at the front door)
- Trunks ready?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, they’re ready. Would you mind going around to the side door; you can bring them down the back way.
Expressman
- Around this way?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, up the steps; I’ll open it for you.
- [The screen door slams, and she hurries in again, crossing towards the portières.
Mrs. Craig
- Are Miss Austen’s things ready, Mrs. Harold?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, Ma’m, I helped her pack last night.
Mrs. Craig
- Did she say where she was going?
Mrs. Harold (stepping)
- Yes, Ma’m; she sez she’s going to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel now, but after that she sez she’s going to travel. (Continuing to the portières) I must open the door for that man.
- [She goes out, and Mrs. Craig stands looking after her, thinking. She moves across towards the portières and stops again, looking out through the portières. Ethel hurries down the stairs, with her hat and coat on.
Mrs. Craig
- Ethel, dear child, what are you doing up so early?
Ethel
- I haven’t been asleep all night. I’ve been waiting to hear some one else up.
Mrs. Craig
- You’re not ill, are you, dear?
Ethel
- No, but I must go home immediately, Aunt Harriet; I’m too troubled in my mind to stay here any longer.
Mrs. Craig
- But you can’t go immediately, dear.
Ethel
- I must go, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
- But there’s no train, dear, until the nine-seventeen.
Ethel
- Well, it’s nearly that now, isn’t it?
- [Mrs. Craig looks at her watch.
Mrs. Craig
- It isn’t a quarter of nine yet.
Ethel
- Well, it’ll take that time to get to the station, won’t it?
Mrs. Craig
- It doesn’t take ten minutes, dear, in a taxicab; and I can have one here in five minutes.
Ethel (putting her bag on the table and crossing down to the mirror)
- Well, will you call one, please?
Mrs. Craig (moving after her)
- Certainly, dear; but there’s no use calling it already, you’d only have to wait around the station there.
Ethel
- I’m so worried, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
- I know, dear child; but I’m sure you’re upsetting yourself unnecessarily; we certainly would have heard something if anything had happened.
Ethel (turning to Mrs. Craig)
- I really should call Mr. Fredericks on the long distance, Aunt Harriet; he’ll be wondering what on earth is the matter. Because I rushed away as soon as ever I got Dr. Wood’s wire, and simply left a note that Mother was very ill. And he’s probably called me up at home by this time and found that I’m down here; and he won’t know what to think of it.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, I wouldn’t worry myself too much about what he’ll think, dear.
Ethel
- But he’ll think it’s funny that I should be down here if Mother’s so ill.
- [There is a sound upstairs of a trunk being moved.
Mrs. Craig (dashing towards the stairs and up on to the landing)
- He probably hasn’t given it a thought.
Ethel (moving across above the table and looking out the bay window)
- Oh, don’t say that, Aunt Harriet, I know he has.
- [Mrs. Craig claps her hands briskly, to attract the expressman’s attention.
Mrs. Craig
- Please be careful of that floor there, Mr. Expressman, will you?
Expressman
- This baby got away from me. I thought it was lighter than it is.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, please try to keep it away from that wall there; I don’t want that wall all scratched up; I only had it painted in April. (There is a sound of the trunk being dragged along the hallway to the back stairs, and then a heavy thud. Mrs. Craig closes her eyes in an agony of suffering and leans heavily upon the banister to keep from fainting. Then she turns and comes down into the room again) Mr. Craig’s aunt is sending some luggage away to be mended; and those expressmen are so careless they don’t care if they tear down the house.
Ethel
- I haven’t had a chance to speak to Miss Austen yet.
Mrs. Craig
- I suppose she’s getting dressed.
Ethel
- I haven’t seen Uncle Walter yet, either.
Mrs. Craig
- He’s out there having some coffee, I believe. Don’t you want to come out and have some too, dear?
Ethel
- I don’t think I could touch a thing, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
- You could take a sip of coffee.
Ethel
- I don’t want Uncle Walter to see me looking so terrible.
Mrs. Craig
- What does it matter, darling; he understands the circumstances. And you really shouldn’t start on that trip back home without something. And when you do go back, Ethel, I want you to consider seriously what I’ve been saying to you about Mr. Fredericks. You’re not married to him yet; and if there’s anything to be done, it’s now that it must be done. You can’t come back and undo a thing like marriage.
Ethel
- Oh, I don’t know what to do, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, there’s no hurry about doing anything just now. And don’t let him hurry you. Just think it over—for his sake as well as for your own. You don’t want to be a burden to him, do you?
Ethel
- Certainly not.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, what else would you be to him, dear—unless you used your own money? And that isn’t conducive to respect for a man. And, in any case, you’d find in time that he’d come to resent your independence of him.
Miss Austen (at the head of the stair)
- Yes, I have it here in my bag, Mrs. Harold.
Mrs. Craig (drawing Ethel towards the portières)
- So just think it over. And come on out to the breakfast room and let me get you something,
- [They go out through the portières. Miss Austen comes down. the stairs, dressed for the street. She glances through the portières and picks up the telephone.
Miss Austen (into the telephone)
- Will you give me Market, three, three, three, three, please? Please. (Mrs. Harold comes down the stairs, dressed for the street, and carrying a suit case and a smaller bag) I think you might as well take those right out on to the porch, Mrs. Harold.
Mrs. Harold (going out)
- Yes, Ma’m.
Miss Austen
- Have them ready when the cab comes. (Into the telephone) Hello.—Will you please send a taxicab to six hundred and eighty Belmont Manor, right away, please? Yes. (She sets the telephone down and Mrs. Harold comes in) It’ll be here in a few minutes, Mrs. Harold. Are you all ready?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, Ma’m, I’m ready.
Miss Austen
- Hadn’t you better speak to Mrs. Craig about your keys, Mrs. Harold?
Mrs. Harold
- I left them with yours up on her dressing table.
Miss Austen
- I think you’d better tell her, Mrs. Harold.
Mrs. Harold
- Do you want me to tell them you’re going?
Miss Austen (going towards the door)
- No, it isn’t necessary, Mrs. Harold; I’ll write to Mr. Craig. But, I think you’d better tell them that you’re going.
Mrs. Harold
- I did tell Mr. Craig I was going; I told him this morning.
Miss Austen
- Well, I think you’d better tell Mrs. Craig, also.
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, Ma’m.
Miss Austen
- There might be something she’d want to ask you.
Mrs. Harold
- All right, I’ll tell her.
Miss Austen
- I’ll sit here on the porch till the taxi comes.
- [She goes ow, and Mrs. Harold goes to the mirror and straightens her funny hat.
Mrs. Craig (coming through the adjoining room)
- Are you in there, Mrs. Harold? (Mrs. Harold moves up to the foot of the stairs and stands facing the portières. Mrs. Craig comes in) Oh, I’ve been looking for you out there, Mrs. Harold; I wanted you to give my niece a little breakfast.
Mrs. Harold
- I’ve left everything ready out there, Mrs. Craig.
Mrs. Craig
- Where are you going, Mrs. Harold?
Mrs. Harold
- Why, I’m going with Miss Austen, Mrs. Craig.
Mrs. Craig
- Indeed?
Mrs. Harold
- She was tellin’ me last night she was goin’ to leave here, and I said I thought I’d be leavin’ pretty soon myself; so she said if I was goin’ anyway soon, she’d like very much to have me go with her.
Mrs. Craig
- And where are you going with her?
Mrs. Harold
- Why, we are goin’ to the Ritz-Carlton first, and after that she sez she’s goin’ to travel for a few years.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, that ought to be a very good experience for you.
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, I’ve never been many places outside of here and Long Branch, and I thought I’d better take the chance while I had it.
Mrs. Craig
- And do you think it’s very considerate of you, Mrs. Harold, to walk away this way without giving me any notice?
Mrs. Harold
- You didn’t give Mazie much notice last night, Mrs. Craig.
Mrs. Craig
- Mazie didn’t deserve any notice; she was a very disobedient girl. She absolutely refused to do what I told her.
Mrs. Harold
- Well, I haven’t always done exactly what you told me to do, either, Mrs. Craig,—so maybe I deserve to go as well as Mazie.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, of course, you can suit yourself about going, Mrs. Harold, but you understand I shall have to tell Miss Hewlitt about your leaving without notice.
Mrs. Harold
- Miss Hewlitt knows all about my leaving, Mrs. Craig; she’s surprised that I didn’t leave long ago, to tell you the truth.
Mrs. Craig
- And why didn’t you leave?
Mrs. Harold
- Well—there were no children—and it’s near church. But Miss Hewlitt told me when I came here that if I stayed a month I’d be the first out of seven that did.
Mrs. Craig
- Miss Hewlitt has sent some very unsatisfactory women here.
Mrs. Harold
- A lot of them have worked in some pretty fine places.
Mrs. Craig (turning away, and moving down to the mirror)
- Well, of course, that depends upon what a person’s idea of a fine place is. And I suppose the next batch she sends me won’t be any more satisfactory than the rest.
Mrs. Harold
- I think you’re very foolish to have her send any more, Mrs. Craig, if you ask me.
Mrs. Craig
- One person can’t do everything.
Mrs. Harold
- I’ve heard you say yourself more than once that you had to do over again everything that any woman that ever worked for you did,—so why not save the money?
- [Mrs. Craig turns from the mirror and comes towards her.
Mrs. Craig
- What about the keys?
Mrs. Harold
- I left them all on your dressin’ table upstairs; and Miss Austen’s, too.
Mrs. Craig
- Wasn’t there anything else to be left?
Mrs. Harold
- Yes, Ma’m, I left the money that I had over with the week’s list in an envelope with the keys.
Mrs. Craig (turning to the portières)
- All right.— I hope you enjoy your world tour.
Mrs. Harold (going towards the front door)
- It’ll be a change, anyway.
- [Mrs. Craig turns at the portières.
Mrs. Craig
- And I hope when you come back, you’ll be able to find a place that’ll be as easy as this one has been.
Mrs. Harold (stopping at the door and turning)
- Don’t worry about me, Mrs. Craig; nobody belongin’ to me ever died in the poorhouse.
- [She goes out on to the porch, and Mrs. Craig looks after her stonily. The front doorbell rings incisively, and Mrs. Craig steps forward at the right and looks keenly towards the front door.
Fredericks (at the front door)
- How do you do?
Mrs. Harold
- How do you do?
Fredericks
- I should like to see Miss Landreth, if I could. My name is Fredericks.
- [Mrs. Craig makes a rapid movement of consternation, then looks at the portières. Ethel comes through the portières.
Ethel and Mrs. Harold (speaking together)
- Ethel: I think I’d better get my things, Aunt Harriet; it must be nearly nine o’clock.
- Mrs. Harold: Oh, come in, please. I think Miss Landreth is just having her breakfast.
- [The screen door slams.
Ethel and Fredericks (speaking together)
- Ethel: Would you mind telephoning for a taxicab?
- Fredericks: I suppose I am a bit early.
- [Ethel hears his voice and stops at the foot of the stairs. Mrs. Craig glides out through the portières. Mrs. Harold comes in at the front door.
Mrs. Harold
- Oh, I was just comin’ to call you, Miss Landreth; there’s a Mr. Fredericks here to see you.
- [He comes in.
Fredericks
- Hello, Ethel.
- [Mrs. Harold passes to the door, back of him, and goes out again.
Ethel
- Gene, there isn’t anything happened to Mother?
Fredericks
- Not a thing in the world, dear, that I know of.
Ethel
- You’re sure?
Fredericks
- ’Pon my word, Ethel. I haven’t been to your house.
Ethel
- Well, why did you come away down here, then, at this hour of the morning?
Fredericks (taking a step to her)
- I wanted to see you. (She begins to cry, and he takes her in his arms) I thought maybe you were ill or something. Don’t cry, darling; I give you my word there isn’t a thing wrong at home. I simply telephoned you as soon as I got your note, and they told me you’d left for here: so then I called you on the long distance. But I couldn’t get any satisfaction on the long distance, and I didn’t know what to think. So I just jumped on the night train and got in here at eight-twenty.
Ethel (straightening up and touching her hair)
- I’m going back right away, Gene; there’s a train at nine-seventeen from the station down town,
Fredericks
- I’ll go back with you.
Ethel
- I don’t know why I ever came away in the first place.
Fredericks (guiding her to the chair at the right of the piano)
- Sit down here for a minute, dear; you look terribly pale.
- [He puts his hat on the piano.
Ethel
- I haven’t closed my eyes since I’ve been here, I’ve been so worried.
Fredericks
- I’ve been worried about you, too, ever since I got your note.
Ethel
- And then I told Aunt Harriet about our engagement, and that upset me more than ever.
Fredericks
- Why?
Ethel
- Oh, she didn’t seem to approve of it exactly.
Fredericks
- Why not?
Ethel (rising)
- Oh, for several reasons, Gene,—I’ll tell you on the train.
- [She starts for the foot of the stairs.
Fredericks (taking her hand as she passes him)
- I wish you’d tell me now, Ethel.
Ethel (turning to him)
- There isn’t time, dear.
Fredericks
- But you make me uneasy.
Ethel
- It’s nothing, Gene, particularly. She simply said she thought perhaps I hadn’t considered the thing sufficiently.
Fredericks
- What is there to consider, darling, in a thing of this kind—except that we love each other.
Ethel
- But she said a thing like marriage should be considered more practically.
Fredericks
- I don’t accept that argument, Ethel; I’ve seen too many carefully reasoned marriages turn out badly. It’s simply a chance that one has to take, more or less. And I have a good way of getting along.
Ethel
- As a single man, yes.
Fredericks
- And even as a married man.
Ethel
- You don’t know that yet, Gene, whether you have or not.
Fredericks
- But other fellows marry, darling, and get along, on a great deal less salary than I’m getting.
Ethel
- I know that, Gene; but, as Aunt Harriet says, their wives are not living the way I’ve been accustomed to living. Not that I’d mind that in the least, dear; only I wouldn’t want you to feel that I was making any sacrifices. And she says you might feel that in your present circumstances.
Fredericks
- But haven’t you any faith in my ability to improve those circumstances?
Ethel
- Of course; but I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you in the meantime.
Fredericks
- But you’re the kind of burden I need, Ethel. You know I’ve had three promotions since I’ve known you.
Ethel
- Yes, I know you have.
Fredericks
- Well, I attribute it to nothing but the incentive that the thought of marrying you has given me. I’ve worked like a dog these past two years, with just that in mind; and if it were removed,—well, I just don’t think beyond that, that’s all.
- [He turns away to the left a few steps and stands looking straight out, She crosses and lays her hand on his arm.
Ethel
- I hadn’t thought of not marrying you, Gene; I was just thinking whether or not it would be wise to postpone it.
Fredericks (turning to her)
- It wouldn’t be wise, Ethel; it isn’t a good thing to postpone a thing like marriage—so many things can happen, (He suddenly takes her in his arms) And I don’t want anything to happen.
Ethel
- What else have I got, Gene, if anything happened to Mother?
- [She buries her face in his shoulder and cries hard.
Fredericks
- Nothing’s going to happen to her, sweetheart. And if it did, you wouldn’t feel any worse than I’d feel if anything happened to this.
- [She continues to cry for a second, then straightens up and presses her handkerchief to her eyes.
Ethel
- We’d better go, Gene, it must be nearly nine o’clock.
- [She starts across below the table towards the mirror, and Fredericks starts across above the table towards the telephone. Craig comes through the portières.
Fredericks
- I’d better call a taxi, hadn’t I?
Ethel
- Oh, Uncle Walter,—this is Mr. Fredericks.
- [Fredericks continues over to shake hands with Craig and Ethel moves up to Fredericks’ left.
Craig (shaking hands)
- I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Fredericks.
Fredericks
- How do you do, Mr. Craig?
Ethel
- Mr. Fredericks is the young man I’m engaged to be married to.
Craig
- Well, I am glad to meet you.
Fredericks
- Pretty lucky fellow, don’t you think, Mr. Craig?
Craig
- I’d say you were. And is it all set?
Fredericks
- I hope so; although Ethel seems to feel a little nervous about it.
Craig
- What are you nervous about, Ethel?
Ethel
- I’m not nervous—it isn’t that. But I was telling Gene that I’d been discussing it with Aunt Harriet, and she seemed to think that probably I hadn’t considered it enough.
- [Fredericks looks at Craig.
Craig
- What did she want you to consider?
Ethel
- Well, she said on account of my age she didn’t think I appreciated the practical side of marriage enough.
Craig
- That’s the one side of marriage that should not be appreciated too much, Ethel; it’s a lack of faith in each other.
Fredericks
- That’s what I tell Ethel.
Craig
- The only thing I think you need to consider really seriously—is whether or not you are both absolutely honest with each other. (Fredericks looks at Ethel, and Craig crosses below them towards the stairs) It doesn’t seem to me that there’s very much else to worry about.
Ethel
- We’re going back on that nine-seventeen, Uncle Walter; do you know the number of the taxicab company?
Craig (starting up the stairs)
- You won’t need a taxi, I’m going right down past the station.
Ethel
- Are you going now?
Craig
- Right away, yes. I’ll get my hat. You have plenty of time; I can get you down there in less than ten minutes.
Ethel
- Uncle Walter, will you bring my satchel down when you’re coming?
Craig
- Yes, I’ll get it.
Ethel
- It’s on the chair there, right inside my door. (Picking up her bag from the table and crossing down to the mirror to fix herself) We won’t have to call a taxi.
- [Fredericks glances out through the portieres, then comes forward, lowering his voice.
Fredericks
- Did your aunt tell you I called you last night?
- [Ethel turns and looks at him.
Ethel
- On the long distance, you mean?
Fredericks
- Yes, I called you from Northampton as soon as I got your note. I called you at home first, of course, and they gave me this address.
Ethel
- And you called here?
Fredericks
- Yes, about seven o’clock. Didn’t she tell you?
Ethel
- No, she didn’t, Gene.
Fredericks
- I talked to her. She said you were asleep.
Ethel
- I couldn’t have been asleep, Gene.
Fredericks
- I asked her to call you to the telephone, but she didn’t seem to want to do it. She said you’d just gotten in and you were tired out.
Ethel
- Well, I was tired, but she could have called me; she might have known I’d want to talk to you. Because I didn’t know what you’d think of my being down here, after leaving word that I was going home.
Fredericks
- Have you seen her this morning?
Ethel
- Yes, but she didn’t say anything about it. And I was talking to her here this morning about you, too. I was saying that I ought to call you on the long distance, that you’d be wondering what was the matter.
Craig (hurrying down the stairs with Ethel’s satchel)
- I’ll run over and get the car.
Fredericks
- Can I take that, Mr. Craig?
Craig
- I’ll leave it out here on the porch. I’ll be back in two minutes. You have lots of time.
Fredericks (going to the piano for his hat)
- Are you ready, Ethel?
Ethel
- Yes, I’m ready, Gene. Id better say good-by to Aunt Harriet.
Fredericks
- Will I wait for you outside?
Ethel
- Don’t you want to meet her, Gene?
Fredericks
- I don’t think she wants to meet me, Ethel.
Ethel
- Why not?
Fredericks
- After what you’ve been telling me.
Ethel
- Oh, that’s nothing, Gene.
Fredericks
- She hung up on me last night.
Ethel Yes, I want to ask her about that call.
Fredericks (going out)
- I think I’d better wait for you outside.
- [Ethel glances through the portières, then comes forward thoughtfully at the right. There is a slight pause. Then Mrs. Craig glides through the portières and across to the bay window to look out. Ethel watches her narrowly, then moves to the right end of the center table.
Ethel
- I’m just going, Aunt Harriet.
- [Mrs. Craig turns, slightly startled.
Mrs. Craig
- Oh, I thought you’d gone. (She comes back towards Ethel) I didn’t hear anybody in here, and I was wondering if you’d gone without telling me.
Ethel
- No, I’m just going.
Mrs. Craig
- Where are Mr. Craig and Mr. Fredericks ?
Ethel
- Mr. Fredericks is there on the porch. (Mrs. Craig turns to the front door and glances out) Uncle Walter’s gone over to get the car.
Mrs. Craig
- Oh, he’s going to drive you in.
Ethel
- Yes.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, that’ll be fine,—you won’t have to bother calling a taxi. (Coming forward to Ethel again) Did Mr. Fredericks have any word about your mother?
Ethel
- No, he hadn’t been home.
Mrs. Craig
- Why don’t you call him in, Ethel; I should like to meet him.
Ethel
- He thought probably you wouldn’t care to meet him.
Mrs. Craig
- Why, how absurd. Why not?
Ethel
- I was telling him about what you said last night, when I told you I was going to marry him.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, my dear child, I was simply talking in a general way. My remarks weren’t directed against Mr. Fredericks particularly. I’m sure he’d appreciate the logic of what I said himself.
Ethel
- He doesn’t, Aunt Harriet; I told him what you said, and he takes quite the opposite view.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, of course, he has considerable to gain by the transaction, Ethel, you must remember that.
Ethel
- Well, Uncle Walter has nothing to gain by it, and he agrees with him.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, you remember I told you last night that Mr. Craig was extremely romantic.
Ethel (becoming very stony)
- Why didn’t you call me last night, Aunt Harriet, when Mr. Fredericks telephoned?
Mrs. Craig
- Because you were asleep, dear.
Ethel
- I couldn’t have been asleep. I haven’t closed my eyes since I’ve been here.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, I thought you were asleep, Ethel; I sent Mazie up to your room and she said your door was closed.
Ethel
- Well, she could have rapped.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, what was the sense of upsetting you, dear?
Ethel
- Because it was important to me.
Mrs. Craig
- I asked him if it was important, and if there was any message he wanted to leave, and he said no.
Ethel
- And you bung up on him,
Mrs. Craig
- Because he insisted upon talking to you; and you were not in any condition to be talked to.
- [She turns and moves towards the bay window.
Ethel
- Why didn’t you tell me this morning that he’d called—when I said I should call him?
Mrs. Craig (turning coldly)
- Now, please, Ethel dear—I shan’t answer any more questions about Mr. Fredericks. (She goes to the bay window to look out) I’ve had quite enough to worry me this morning without thinking about Mr. Fredericks. He’s going back with you, I suppose?
Ethel (crossing up to the front door)
- Yes.
Mrs. Craig (turning to her)
- Well, I’m glad you won’t have to make the trip alone. Good-by, dear. (She kisses her) I hope you’ll let me know right away how you find your mother.
Ethel (holding her hand)
- Aunt Harriet—
Mrs. Craig
- What, dear?
Ethel (after a pause, and holding her eye)
- Aunt Harriet, is Uncle Walter leaving you?
Mrs. Craig
- Why, what on earth ever put that into your head, Ethel?
Ethel
- Something he was saying when I came to the head of the stairs to come down this morning.
Mrs. Craig
- And what was he saying?
Ethel
- Something about your having made a remark that made it impossible for him to continue here as your husband.
Mrs. Craig
- I’m sure I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Ethel.
Ethel
- And then a while ago here, when I told him I was going to be married to Mr. Fredericks, he said the only thing we needed to consider seriously was whether or not we were absolutely honest with each other. And I was wondering if he’d found out.
Mrs. Craig
- Found out what?
Ethel
- That that you told me last night,—when I said I didn’t think it was honest.
- [There is a movement on the front porch. The screen door slams, and Mrs. Craig turns away quickly and looks out the bay window.
Craig (outside)
- All set?
Fredericks (outside)
- All set. Ethel’s inside.
Ethel (going out)
- Good-by, Aunt Harriet.
Mrs. Craig (turning and following her to the door)
- Good-by, dear.
Ethel
- I’ll write you as soon as I get home.
Mrs. Craig
- Do, dear; let me know how your mother is.
Ethel
- Yes, I shall.
- [The screen door slams.
Craig
- Ready, Ethel?
Ethel
- Yes, I’m coming, Uncle Walter.
- [Mrs. Craig turns nervously and moves across and down to the mantelpiece.
Craig
- Your satchel’s in the car. I’ll be with you in a minute.
- [He comes in, taking a little leather key case from his pocket, and crosses to the portières.
Mrs. Craig
- Are you going to the office now?
Craig
- Yes, it’s nearly nine o’clock.
- [He goes through the portières, and Mrs. Craig moves up to the portières.
Mrs. Craig
- Mrs. Harold says you haven’t been in bed all night; you won’t feel much like sitting at a desk all day.
Craig (from the other room)
- I’ll have plenty of time to rest after a bit.
- [Mrs. Craig’s eyes narrow, in an attempt to fathom this remark. She comes forward again at the right, slowly and thoughtfully. Craig enters, fastening the little key case, and crosses towards the front door, picking up his hat from the table as he passes.
Mrs. Craig
- Did you find what you were looking for?
Craig
- I wasn’t looking for anything—I was just leaving the key to your car and the garage, with some other things I’ve left there for you. (He turns at the door) If you should want me for anything during the next week or two, Harriet, I’ll be at the Ritz.
- [She turns suddenly and makes a rapid movement to the center table.
Mrs. Craig
- Now, listen to me, Walter Craig, you’re surely not serious about leaving this house.
Craig
- Why, I should think that decision would please you very much.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, it doesn’t please me at all; it’s absolutely ridiculous.
Craig
- But it’s so absolutely practical.
Mrs. Craig
- Oh, don’t try to be funny.
Craig
- And you’ve been deploring my lack of practicality so long.
Mrs. Craig
- I’d like to know what’s practical about a man walking out and leaving his wife and his home.
Craig
- I have no wife to leave,—for you neither loved nor honored me.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, you married me, whether I did or not.
Craig
- I never saw you before in my life, Harriet—until last night.
Mrs. Craig
- You married me, didn’t you?
Craig
- And you married a house; and if it’s agreeable to you, I’ll see that you have it; and that you can go on having it, just as though I were here.
Mrs. Craig (turning away towards the mantelpiece)
- You’ll be here; unless I’m very much mistaken.
Craig
- You don’t know your man, Harriet.
Mrs. Craig
- I know him well enough for that, anyway.
Craig
- Oh, you knew me pretty well, I’ll grant you that; particularly when you said my mind worked very slowly.
Mrs. Craig
- It’s working pretty slowly now, when you don’t appreciate the absurdity of a move of this kind.
Craig
- But you failed to reckon with the thoroughness of my mind, Harriet, when it does work. And it appreciates this situation so thoroughly that it has no illusions about the impossibility of my continuance here.
Mrs. Craig
- What is there so impossible about it?
Craig
- We’ve shown our hands, Harriet, and the game is up.
Mrs. Craig
- What did I do last night that was so terrible?
Craig
- You simply showed your hand, that was all.
Mrs. Craig
- I simply kept you from making a fool of yourself; that was all I did.
Craig
- But you also showed me how I could keep from making a fool of myself in the future.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, you’re certainly not beginning very auspiciously, I can tell you that.
Craig
- But I shall be at least a self-respecting fool; and that’s something I could never be if I stayed here. There’s something in a man, Harriet, that I suppose is his essential manhood; and you insulted that last night, And I should be too embarrassed here, under your eye, knowing that you had no respect for that manhood. I should remember my lover’s ardors and enthusiasms for our future; and you bearing with me contemptuously, for the sake of your future. I couldn’t stand it.
Mrs. Craig
- You’re not telling the truth; I always respected you; and I never had anything but respect for your plans, either.
Craig
- Don’t try to soften the blow, Harriet; I assure you it isn’t necessary.
- [He turns towards the door, and she makes a move towards him.
Mrs. Craig
- Where are you going when you leave here?
- [He turns and looks at her.
Craig
- That ’ud be rather interesting to know, Harriet—where a lot like me are going.—Out of fashion, possibly.
Mrs. Craig
- Well, what about your things?—Aren’t you going to take anything with you?
Craig
- You may send them to me if you like.
Mrs. Craig (turning away)
- Well, I won’t send them to you; for you’ll very likely be back again within a week.
Craig
- Perhaps it will be just as well if you don’t send them to me, Harriet,—for I’m rather sentimental about things; and I might look back, and be turned into a romantic fool.
Mrs. Craig
- Oh, I suppose you’ll never forgive me for calling you that.
Craig
- No, there isn’t a thing in the world I don’t forgive you for, Harriet; that’s the reason it won’t be necessary for me to come back here any more; there’s nothing to adjust. I guess possibly I’m just a bit of an old-fashioned man—I must be trusted—and you never trusted me.
Mrs. Craig
- I wouldn’t trust any man after what I’ve seen.
Craig
- I don’t blame you. But I wonder that, with all your wisdom, it never occurred to you that one cannot play a dishonest game indefinitely.
Mrs. Craig
- I haven’t played any dishonest game.
Craig
- Possibly not, according to your standards; but I think you have. And I think you know you have. And that’s the rock that you and I are splitting on, Harriet. If this affair at Passmores’ hadn’t revealed you, something else would: so my going may as well be to-day as to-morrow. Good-by, Harriet.
- [He goes out; she leans on the table. The screen door slams. She moves over to the bay window and watches him get into the automobile: then she comes forward to the window at the right and watches him down the street. After he has passed beyond her vision, her gaze wanders into the room again, and she becomes conscious of two tiny pieces of the broken ornament near the mantelpiece. She stoops and picks them up, flicking away with her foot any other invisible particles that may be about. Then she looks at the two remaining ornaments on the mantelpiece and tries to come to some conclusion about their arrangement. She places them equi-distant from each other and the ends of the mantelpiece, and stands off to observe the effect. The front doorbell rings sharply. She turns and crosses to answer it.
Boy’s voice (at the front door)
- Telegram for Mrs. Walter Craig.
- [She signs for the telegram, the screen door slams and she comes in, opening the telegram. She reads the telegram, looks straight ahead for a second, thinking—looks at the wire again, and bursts into tears—sinking into the chair at the right of the piano. She cries hard for a moment, then smooths the telegram out and reads it again. Mrs. Frazier appears in the door, dressed in gray, and carrying an armload of white roses. She comes forward inquiringly.
Mrs. Frazier
- Good morning, Mrs. Craig. (Mrs. Craig doesn’t hear her) Good morning. (Mrs. Craig looks at her, startled, gets up nervously and moves across to the front of the center table, touching her eyes and her hair) I do hope you’ll pardon my walking in without ringing, but I thought Miss Austen ’ud be on the front porch, and I wanted to bring her these roses. (She hands Mrs. Craig the roses) I was telling her yesterday I’d bring her over some; she was saying she admired white roses so much; and I have so many of them over there just now.
Mrs. Craig
- I haven’t seen her yet this morning.
Mrs. Frazier (preparing to go)
- Well, if you’ll just tell her I left them.
Mrs. Craig
- Yes, I shall; thanks ever so much.
Mrs. Frazier (turning back)
- Oh, have you had any word about your sister this morning, Mrs. Craig? Miss Austen was telling me yesterday she was quite ill.
Mrs. Craig (starting to cry again)
- She died this morning at six o’clock.
Mrs. Frazier
- Oh, dear me, how sad.
Mrs. Craig
- I just had this wire.
Mrs. Frazier
- Dear, dear, dear, isn’t that too bad!
Mrs. Craig
- I had no idea she was so ill or I should never have come back.
Mrs. Frazier
- Dear, dear, dear, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you at all.
Mrs. Craig
- That’s quite all right.
Mrs. Frazier
- I’m sure you have my sympathy.
Mrs. Craig
- Thank you.
Mrs. Frazier
- I do hope you’ll let me know, Mrs. Craig, if there’s any way I can be of any service to you.
Mrs. Craig
- Thank you very much; I don’t think there’s anything anybody can do.
Mrs. Frazier
- I suppose you’ll have to go right back up there again, won’t you?
Mrs. Craig
- I don’t know whether I shall be able to or not, to tell you the truth, Mrs. Frazier; it’s been such a strain.
Mrs. Frazier
- Yes, those long illnesses are dreadful. But I hope you won’t hesitate to let me know if there’s anything I can do.
Mrs. Craig
- That’s very kind of you. I’ll give these roses to Miss Austen when I see her.
Mrs. Frazier
- If you will, please. (She starts for the door) I’m terribly sorry. I’ll run over again.
- [She goes out; and Mrs. Craig stands very still until she hears the screen door close. Then she steps up to the door and clicks the latch. Then she turns, comes forward a few steps into the room again, and stands, holding the roses against her bosom and looking straight out. A clock out in one of the adjoining rooms strikes nine with a mournful gong. After the fourth gong her eyes wander in the direction of the clock and she moves slowly across towards the portières. Then she comes forward at the right, wandering, and crosses below the table to the piano. Several rose petals flutter to the floor. She stands at the piano for a moment, looking out through the bay window, then retraces her steps. She looks unseeingly at the scattered petals, continues up towards the portières, looks out through the deserted rooms, and finally stops. A few more petals drift to the floor. The curtain commences to descend, very, very slowly. She turns desolately and wanders back towards the piano again, clutching the roses close, her eyes wide and despairing.
THE END